


Oatmeal Jumper

by katznhund



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slightly creeper!Sherlock, oblivious!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katznhund/pseuds/katznhund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock really likes John's beige sweater. This is Sherlock's attempt to get John to wear it and kind of flirt in his own weird way. Pre-relationship, John is oblivious to his attempts, and did I mention Sherlock really likes that sweater?</p>
<p>Initially inspired by Depeche Mode's song Blue Dress though it wandered off in a different direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oatmeal Jumper

"Is that what you're wearing?"

John looked down at his checked shirt, "Yeah."

"I imagine we'll be spending a good part of the evening outside, you should dress warmer, put on one of those jumpers. The oatmeal one should be warm enough."

"I'll be fine."

"Nonsense, I can't have my blogger catching a cold."

"Sherlock, really..."

"Lestrade is waiting, John, now change so we can go."

John glared at his roommate. Sherlock paced the flat impatiently, paused and motioned for John to go upstairs. John frowned, "Right."

A few moments later the good doctor trudged downstairs in a familiar beige pullover. "Happy?"

"Yes."

 

An hour later John found himself in front of a roaring fire looking down at a recent discovered body. He shifted uncomfortably and pulled the knit material away from his chest several times.

"I thought you said we were going to be outside."

The detective was busy looking a nearby side table, "Miscalculation."

"You? A miscalculation?"

"You could take it off."

"Yeah, but then I'd have to carry it around a crime scene which is a bit inconvenient."

 "Have it your way." He pick up small figurine and examined it closely. "It brings out your eyes you know, with your hair and the jumper being the same color they really stand out. I think Donavan may have notice."

"What?" John was now feeling extremely warm and not just because of the fire.

"You heard me." Sherlock set down the figurine. "What do you estimate for the time of death?"

"Not long, a few hours maybe."

"Where's Lestrade? I think we're done here."

 

They were barely inside the cab before John reached down to pull the sweater off. Sherlock watched out of the corner of his eye as a bit of the doctor's shirt caught in the fabric and was pulled up to reveal a hint of flesh beneath.

John shoved the lump of beige fabric between them. "That is the last time I let you tell me what to wear."

"I thought we'd have to search the surrounding streets for clues, as it turns out, all the information I needed was in the apartment."

"I'm dripping in sweat, Sherlock. I must smell like I just finished running a marathon. I'm going to have to shower as soon as we get back."

Sherlock sniffed the air, taking in the musky smell of John's sweat. He placed his arm atop the jumper and subtly ran his fingers over the knit pattern."Relax, you smell fine. Besides you would have showered first thing anyways, you always do after crime scenes."

"That's not the point."

"Then I fail to see what the point is. I was looking out for your health, so I made a suggestion. The end result is you were uncomfortable for a few hours and now you're going to go home and do the same thing you would have done regardless of what you were wearing."

 

The cab pulled up in front of Baker Street and Sherlock grabbed the sweater as he got out. At the top of the stairs he unlatched the door and motioned his friend in with a flourish of waving oatmeal coloured arms. "After you, John, I believe your shower is waiting."

The doctor scowled and headed towards the shared bathroom. A few moments later Sherlock heard the familiar splashes of water as it hit the shower surround. He pulled the jumper to his face and inhaled deeply. He rubbed the soft yarn against his cheeks. He felt the way it stretched when he tugged it between his fingertips, the way it held the heat of hands. He wondered what it would feel like to have the woolen fabric brush the tops of his knuckles while his hands kneeded smooth warm skin beneath.

The water shut off.

Sherlock laid the sweater across the back of the chair, letting his fingers linger for just a moment as he turned towards his room.


End file.
